


lighting candles in the bathroom

by aeonsupon



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 97 line are seniors, Alternate Universe - High School, Break Up, Emotional Constipation, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Break Up, but like former best friends to lovers, heavy emphasis on getting back together, senior year feelings...., soccer mingyu, track and field minghao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonsupon/pseuds/aeonsupon
Summary: “Do you think that you’ll be okay so far away from home?"Minghao thinks thinks about the snow that comes every five years and Mingyu running across the street to wake him up for the snowfall. He thinks about the way his mother smiled at them from behind a camera.My handsome boys. Always stick together, you two.He thinks about Mingyu’s hands under his tanktop while the summer air weighed on them as thick and heavy as molasses and giggling deliriously,I’m not sure this is what she meant when she told us to stick together.He thinks about Mingyu spotting him at the park six Sundays ago, his hand moving unconsciously to wave, then curling into a fist as he walks away without completing the gesture.“I’m used to being far away from home,” Minghao answers around the lump in his throat.----Senior year is a really inconvenient time to lose your best friend. And to realize that you still have feelings for said best friend. Unfortunately, college is right around the corner and Minghao is still clinging to Mingyu's smile.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. lucky

**Author's Note:**

> title from an interview by FINNEAS about making billie eilish's _watch:_ “This is me just lighting a bunch of matches in the bathroom. It became the snare essentially for this song of Billie’s called 'watch.'" i guess you can treat _watch_ as the main soundtrack to this fic! but spoiler alert: there is no arson involved.
> 
> sometimes life gives you a shitty senior year in a pandemic and you have to make a story out of what should have been. enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu's smile hasn’t wavered. This, more than anything, is what makes Minghao want to hide somewhere he can sink into the heavy feeling in his chest. 
> 
> Minghao sighs. “Mingyu, cut it out. You haven’t talked to me in two months and you come to tell me you’re sure you’re going far away? What — what are you doing?” The last part comes out in a whisper and Minghao stretches his legs back out, plants his hands in his lap and stares resolutely at the chipping green nail polish on his pinky finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> committed = what athletes say when they pick the school they're going to. why? i have no idea i'm a nerd
> 
> chapter title from lucky by jason mraz and ximena sariñana

_suerte que sentí lo que sentí,_  
lucky that i felt what i felt,  
_suerte que regresas para mi_  
lucky that you come back for me  
_— lucky, jason mraz and ximena sariñana_

  


_March_

Dew and soft grass stain the back of Minghao’s t-shirt as he sprawls out in his backyard. His outstretched hand is an imprint of black on the faraway sky, Vega shining brightly between his middle and ring finger.

9,000 visible stars in the sky, and we are made of the same elements, he reflects. Which of these stars did he come from? How many people had he met who were made of the same star stuff? Would he know if they came from the same place, or would their atoms be too far from home? Would their souls fit together like Mingyu's fingers slotting perfectly between his and Mingyu's lips on his collarbone and the twitch of his eyebrows when he focuses on the movement of Minghao's hand painting, always following the same train of thought— 

A deep metal _clang!_ and a yelp draws Minghao’s attention to the far end of his backyard. A lanky figure climbs over the top of his fence, but his shoe catches on a wire and he stumbles. The plastic bag in his hand, ghostly pale in the moonlight, swings and its content clangs on metal. Minghao resists the urge to bury his face in the earth beneath him and play dead. He brings his hands down to his sides and closes his eyes and ignores how his heart has dropped into his stomach. 

Mingyu is loud in everything he does, footfalls too heavy against the winter grass and plastic bag too noisy in the faint wind as he gets closer to Minghao. He drops the plastic bag next to Minghao’s side, close enough that damp plastic brushes against his side where his shirt has ridden up. Minghao shies away from the touch and opens his eyes to see Mingyu’s blinding smile above him.

“Hi, Hao.”

Minghao pinches his eyebrows together. _I will not smile._

His expression must come out strange because Mingyu's smile softens. "You're going to catch a cold out here."

Minghao jerks his chin up slightly. “So?”

Mingyu unties a sweatshirt from around his waist and drops it on Minghao’s chest. “I can’t have you feeling bad on my watch.”

Minghao feels the fleeting urge to yell. It comes as quickly as it goes, rage stamped out for relief. _On your watch? You’re not even around._

He sits up and shoves the sweatshirt over his head anyway, his chest constricting around the scent of Mingyu’s tangerine soap and sunshine. He shivers despite the new warmth and crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, I guess.”

He glances up through his eyelashes and Mingyu is still there, dopey grin and eyelashes fluttering, taking in the sight of Minghao in his sweatshirt. Minghao unfolds his arms self-consciously and runs his hands down the front of his sweater and _oh._ The lettering on the front is familiar and unwelcome.

Minghao swallows down the protests that spring to his tongue and pretends the blue cotton blend isn’t burning his skin. “Is this your way of telling me you’re committed?”

Mingyu’s smile grows megawatt. Vega must be cowering in the sky, no longer visible behind Mingyu’s head. He lowers himself to the ground across from Minghao and Minghao notices he’s in the inverted version of his sweater, white cotton and blue _Carolina_ printed across his chest. It sits snugly on his shoulders and Minghao feels so small in comparison that he might sink into the earth.

“Yeah,” he beams. “Thanks to you.”

Minghao bites back a bitter response. _Don’t remind me._

“Congratulations, Gyu,” he says instead, earnestness burning his throat. He hesitates and pulls his knees to his chest, fingers plucking at the stray threads in the holes in the knees. “That’s crazy,” he adds softly, allowing admiration to bleed into his voice. “Chapel Hill is far from home.”

“So is New York,” Mingyu shoots back.

Minghao shakes his head. “I’m not in yet, Mingyu.”

“You’re going. They’d be crazy not to take you.” Mingyu’s smile hasn’t wavered. This, more than anything, is what makes Minghao want to hide somewhere he can sink into the heavy feeling in his chest. 

Minghao sighs. “Mingyu, cut it out. You haven’t talked to me in two months and you come to tell me you’re sure you’re going far away? What — what are you doing?” The last part comes out in a whisper and Minghao stretches his legs back out, plants his hands in his lap and stares resolutely at the chipping green nail polish on his pinky finger.

Mingyu doesn’t respond for a long time. _Not smiling anymore, are you?_ Minghao thinks viscously, but the thought feels like a knife in his chest.

“I came to — well.” Minghao can’t look up, but he sees Mingyu’s hands twist nervously in the bottom of his sweatshirt. _Good._ “I brought Sprite. I saw you complaining on Snap that Junhui drank the last one.”

Minghao teeters between responses for a moment, eyes on the bruises on Mingyu’s knuckles. _You’re always in trouble. You’re going to be decommitted if the coaches catch you fighting again. That isn’t what I asked. I—_

The hiss of the metal top breaking open and soda fizzing is loud enough in the midnight air to cut Minghao’s thoughts short.

“You brought two for me? How sweet.” Minghao tries at teasing, fishing around for a straw in the bag. _(He remembered,_ he thinks halfway when he finds one. _He always remembers, dammit._ )

Mingyu whines softly in the back of his throat, almost experimental. Minghao smiles for the first time and passes the can to him.

“As if I could keep anything away from you,” Minghao mutters as softly as he can. Mingyu catches it anyway, smiling softly around his straw.

If Minghao lets go of the tension in his chest for just a moment, the dewy air gathering where his sweatshirt clings to him reminds him of easier times. It was easier when his fate wasn’t on the horizon; easier when Mingyu wasn’t so far from him. He chances a glance at him. His side profile has sharpened in the past few months, but with only the faint light of the moon and the neighbors’ porch lights meters away, he could still be the same kid that Minghao grew up with.

Eventually, they end up how they always have; Mingyu on his back, staring up at the stars, Minghao on his stomach, face buried in the sleeve of his sweater, sweet grass tickling his chin. He’s hiding his face, but his free hand is holding tightly on to Mingyu’s wrist.

“I missed you, you know,” Mingyu says softly.

Minghao tilts his head to the side, now resting his temple on his arm. Mingyu isn’t looking at him.

“You’re still my best friend,” Minghao says after a long stretch of time. “Don’t — don’t disappear on me again, Gyu.”

One of Mingyu’s hands drifts down and covers Minghao’s where he’s grasping the sleeve of Mingyu’s sweater. His hand had gone cold, but now, warm and covered, Minghao drifts into a half-sleep beneath the Vela constellation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if there are any stray typos!! i did my best
> 
> comments & kudos are appreciated! follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/aeonsupon) for more updates!


	2. shards of glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minghao feels his smile go shy in return despite himself. “Hi, Gyu.” The air smells like gasoline and a bit like sugar from the banana milk on his lips, and Mingyu is soft and blue in front of him, and this is a night he’ll hold onto forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chronologically happens before chapter 1!! have fun

借 我 一 双 小 翅膀， 就 能 飞 向 太阳。  
_Lend me a pair of wings, so I can fly to the sun._  
我 相信 奇迹 就 在 身上。  
_I believe in miracles._  
有 你 相伴， leapfrog。  
_I have you to accompany me — leapfrog._  
— 小跳蛙 Leapfrog, nursery rhyme

  


  


_September_

Minghao balances on the curb where it bends towards the street, Converse nearly slipping against gravity with his left hand buried in his pocket, unhelpful towards his balance, and his right holding a carton of banana juice, equally unhelpful. He watches Mingyu through the convenience store window. Despite how tall he is, his movements are still awkward and small as he slides his card in the reader, not quite used to almost-adulthood. It makes Minghao smile around his straw. They’re not the only people at the gas station, but he’s the only person watching. This memory, this Mingyu — they’re all his.

Mingyu ducks slightly when he exits the door, habit even though he’s not so tall that he could hit his head on the doorframe, and beams when he looks at Minghao. His skin goes from tan beneath the harsh convenience store lights to technicolor blue when he stands across from the convenience store sign.

“Hi,” he says, almost shyly, even though they’ve been dating all summer and friends for years longer.

Minghao feels his smile go shy in return despite himself. “Hi, Gyu.” The air smells like gasoline and a bit like sugar from the banana milk on his lips, and Mingyu is soft and blue in front of him, and this is a night he’ll hold onto forever.

Mingyu gestures towards his car, and Minghao climbs into the passenger seat. He reaches automatically for the aux. Mingyu lets him.

Mingyu tears open a pack of Skittles and sits them between his knees. He folds his arms against the steering wheel and leans his head against it, smiling at Minghao. His eyes are warm and trusting. For the first time, Minghao’s lungs constrict with nerves.

“What did you want to talk about that we couldn’t talk about at home?” Mingyu asks.

Minghao laces his fingers together in his lap to stop himself from fidgeting. There’s a soft country pop song playing over the speakers that he knows Mingyu likes. He mouths the words silently while he waits for Minghao to answer. _If all I got is your hand in my hand, baby, I could die a happy man._

“Right. I guess I’d better get to it.” Minghao laughs, short and breathy. “I think we’re better as friends.”

Mingyu blinks at him in surprise. Some of the smile fades from his face. “We are friends.”

Minghao tilts his head and tries to smile. “You know what I mean.”

Mingyu straightens up. His hands settle in his lap and he frowns at them, though he looks like he’s trying to repress it. His voice is strained when he speaks. “What’s this about?”

Minghao shakes his head. He’s so tempted to lean over, grab Mingyu’s hand, say _Nevermind, it was a bad idea. We’re fine._ “It’s just — I have so much work. It’s school, and — my dad,” he adds hesitantly. Mingyu’s posture grows stony, but when he turns back to Minghao, his eyes are still kind. 

“I get it.” Mingyu lets out a long breath. “But… I don’t know if I can go back to that.”

Minghao’s heart and lungs are turning to stone slowly. “To…?”

Mingyu gestures between them. His eyes flicker to Minghao’s lips, then his eyes, then back to the middle console. “Being… just friends.” 

“Oh.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, both fighting off hurt. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Minghao says in a small voice. He hates that he sounds choked up with tears, but he doesn’t know how to stop. “I’m just… overwhelmed. I want you to be happy.”

Mingyu nods. “I want you to be happy too.”

Minghao’s emotions are all clamoring for attention, clouding all rational thought. _We can take it back! Pretend I never said it! You don’t have to go!_ He shakes his head to clear the thoughts away, but his chest still burns with emotion.

“I think this is best for you, _Xiao Hao,_ ” Mingyu says quietly. “We can — we can try.” There’s a glimmer of confidence in Mingyu’s voice — weak, but it’s _there._ “I wish we didn’t have to break up, but I don’t want to you to stress yourself out. I know you will.”

Minghao closes his eyes. _Break up._ The phrase makes him sick to his stomach.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks. For a second, Minghao wishes he would reach out, but he understands why he can’t.

Minghao opens his eyes and lets out a laugh that sounds like a hiccup. “I’m fine. I should get going. Thanks, Mingyu.”

Mingyu looks a little lost, a little crestfallen when Minghao gets out and leans against the doorframe before leaving. His smile is so faint that it looks like a figment of Minghao’s imagination. “Get home safely,” he says, and Minghao almost laughs because their houses are a maximum of four minutes away from this gas station, but he just gives his own tight smile and leaves. On a normal night, Mingyu would pull out right behind him and pretend to race him home, but tonight he stays, hunched over in his car.

Minghao watches for a second, but he doesn’t look like he’s crying. Minghao holds on tight to the hint of confidence he’d heard in Mingyu’s voice and the urge to cry lessens. He laughs a little hysterically in its place and drives home in silence. 

It doesn’t hit him until he flicks the light on in his room and the mirror over his desk reminds him that it’s Mingyu’s name stitched onto the breast of the jacket he’s wearing. It smells like him, too; tangerine soap, baby lotion to soothe the sensitive skin around his neck lingering around the collar.

Minghao turns the lights back off and looks at the stuffed frog leaning against his pillow.

“We’re still friends,” he informs Xiao Qingwa. His voice comes out defensive to his own ears.

_Xiao Hao or Xiao Qingwa?_ Mingyu had asked him, fingers paused over the keyboard where he was filling out the Build-a-Bear certificate.

Minghao laughed softly. Mingyu had picked up the nickname from Junhui in their sophomore year, when Junhui got a car and Mingyu was always at Minghao’s house when went to pick Minghao up. Junhui was impressed by Mingyu’s pronunciation when the three of them spent time together. His Mandarin was smooth after years of practicing at Minghao’s house, where he had first learned to say _Thank you for the food_ and _Turn the lights off, please_ when they were five. Minghao thinks on all of this in a fond flash of memories, proud of the natural-sounding inflection of Mingyu’s voice. 

_I’m Xiao Hao, aren’t I? He can be Xiao Qingwa._

Mingyu had grinned and moved his arms to hug Minghao around the middle for a moment before turning back to the computer.

Xiao Qingwa’s glass eyes are nonjudgmental when Minghao gently removes his bucket hat and hugs him to his chest. He thought it wouldn’t matter _how_ he had Mingyu as long as he had him, but for some reason, he feels overwhelmingly lonely.

  


  


___

  


  


“You haven’t gone to Mingyu’s lately,” Minghao’s mother says cautiously after dinner two weeks later. Minghao is helping her clean the kitchen, drying the dishes after she washes them, putting them in their place, wiping at the counter and the cabinets in between. He tries not to tense, afraid that the mug in his hand will slip right to the floor and shatter.

“We’re busy, mama,” he says as lightly as he can. “Seniors and all.” 

She hums in understanding, and a blanket of quiet falls back over the kitchen. Minghao’s father is in his office, a talk show on the radio drifting down the hallway. Minghao’s phone is balanced on top of the microwave, tonight playing the kind of country music that Mingyu likes, occasionally queueing one of his mother’s song requests. Not that he’s thinking about Mingyu, or anything.

“Minghao,” his mother starts again. “Did you two break up?”

This time, Minghao does drop the mug in his hand. It bounces against the counter and he darts forward before it can fall to the ground and do something worse than chip. He rights it and covers the chip in the handle with his thumb. Guilt spreads through his body like a fever, hot and heavy and uncomfortable. He knows it’s written all over his face when he looks at his mom with a mix of shock and shame. 

“What?”

She sets the last plate down and wipes her hands on her jeans and fixes him with a look that’s somewhere between nervous and understanding. “I’m just asking a question.”

“How did you know?” Minghao asks, voice tight.

“I could tell something was different this summer.” She talks to him like a spooked animal, or maybe like a wild thing that’s crawled into her kitchen and bared its teeth. “You seemed happier.”

“We’re friends,” Minghao says firmly. His heart is beating so fast it might fall out of his chest altogether. “I am happy.”

“You are only friends?”

The feelings Minghao has been pushing off for two weeks begin to crash back in. He’s been keeping his distance from Mingyu, and Mingyu has been keeping even more distance from him, and as much as he would like to say _It sucks, but what can ya do about it?_ and shrug his shoulders, he misses Mingyu so badly it feels like his stomach is cramping with hunger.

“No,” Minghao whispers. His shoulders hunch and he looks at the granite counter. There’s the chip from the handle, shiny red on one side and jagged white on the other. “You’re right.” 

Minghao has long since outgrown his mother's height, but somehow he feels small when she reaches up and pushes his hair out of his face and holds one of his hands. “Why did you break up?”

_Because I need perfect grades this semester,_ Minghao could say. The weight of senior year is crushing. _Because I need to focus on balancing my school activities and not on dating. Because it’s easy when it’s the two of us and an endless summer but add school into the equation and I don’t know what we have. I don’t know if I can handle it. Because I can’t let dad find out. Because I don’t know how long I can hide this, if you already know._

“I don’t know,” he stutters out instead, and he finds that he means it. He closes his eyes before his body can shake with suppressed sobs. It doesn’t work; tears come out against his will. He clenches his free hand into a fist and wishes he wasn’t so _sad,_ godammit, he did this, they’re fine, they’re friends, so why does he feel lost?

His mother leads him out of the kitchen and sits him down in one of the living room chairs and pulls him into a hug.

“You cannot keep all of this inside, Minghao,” she whispers, hugging him fiercely. He trembles and tries to wipe his tears away, but she bats his hand away and does it for him. “Let yourself feel sadness, and let yourself miss him.”

“We’re still friends,” Minghao whispers before a fresh set of tears sets in. He holds back a curse and bites his lip hard. “But maybe I shouldn’t have done it.”

“If you did what was best for you, then don’t take it back,” his mother says. She hugs him for a moment longer before she lets go and nudges his arm. “Go get cleaned up before your father sees you crying and asks questions.”

Minghao dries his face with his sleeves as he goes up the stairs and tries desperately to stop crying. He sits on his bed and stares at the hook on his door where his own varsity jacket hangs, black and green with a proud _Xu_ patch on the back. Just two weeks ago, he’d had Mingyu’s jacket there, black and white and blue with an _8_ and a _Kim_ on the back and too many patches on the sleeves because Mingyu’s excitement eclipsed his eye for design. He wishes he had it back. His room smells too much like himself. 

He pulls out his phone to text Junhui.

Minghao:  
_Do straight men cry over their exes this much?_

Junhui:  
_do i look like the person to ask about straight men ??_

Minghao laughs wetly. It’s just like Junhui to answer with indignance before comfort. 

Junhui:  
_xiao hao :(_  
_why are u crying_

Minghao: _Well, I’m not anymore_  
_I just feel like_  
_I made a bad move_  
_I don’t THINK I did_  
_But you know…_  


Junhui:  
_i know :(_  
_he was your best friend of course you're sad_  


Minghao:  
_Don’t say was_

Junhui’s text bubble appears and disappears twice before he responds. 

Junhui:  
_sorry_  
_i'm just saying_  
_breakups always suck just let yourself feel upset_  


Minghao:  
_Do you think I can fix it??_  
_We’re still friends_  
_But he’s my best friend other than you… I don’t want to lose that_  


Junhui:  
_only u know that babe but i don’t know if that’s something you can stop or fix_

Minghao sends an emphatically sad GIF and thanks Junhui. Before he can slide his phone off and disappear to shower, he gets a notification from Mingyu. It’s a link, no caption, and that’s not like him. He wonders begrudgingly if Mingyu is the same as him; he thinks of him when laughs, he thinks of him when cries, he takes pictures that he should send but is too afraid to disturb the fragile peace between them, he settles on sending videos with no trailing words. He opens it curiously. It’s just a video of a dog playing in the snow, but the owner’s narration makes him laugh. 

That’s just it. They’re fine like this. Mingyu needs his space, Minghao needs to uphold his decision, and they both need to survive their senior year. He can already feel Mingyu slipping away, but — they will both be _okay._ Right? And _okay_ is just what they need to survive the year. 

He just wishes he didn’t have to lose his best friend in the process. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you can have a million reasons to leave someone behind and still feel completely lost when you try to figure out why you did that
> 
> comments & kudos are appreciated! follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/aeonsupon) for more writing updates <3


End file.
